


The Subtle Ways that I'd Give In

by Daiako (Achrya)



Series: Promptioweek2017 [2]
Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Aftercare, Bondage, Consensual Non-Consent, Explicit Sexual Content, M/M, Mild Language, Minor Violence, Object Insertion, Rape Fantasy, Slut Shaming, eventually
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-27
Updated: 2018-01-06
Packaged: 2018-11-19 15:31:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,711
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11316318
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Achrya/pseuds/Daiako
Summary: Prompto cringed away, pushing himself up as Gladio drew back, leaving them staring at each other; Gladio looking dumbfounded and Prompto horrified at what had come out of his mouth.“You want me to what?”Prompto has a fantasy. Gladio is indulgent.For Promptio Week Day One: In the Dark





	1. In the Dark

**Author's Note:**

> Mind the warnings kiddos. Rape fantasy ahoy, and it gets. Uh. Depraved. Not in this part so much but the next one. ...whelp. 
> 
> Unbetaed. *squints* Also much much longer than I meant it to be.

The best part of being with Gladio, more than the company, the closeness, and the great sex, was that he honestly felt like he could tell him anything. And not just the weird sexy fantasy stuff, but the ‘sometimes I feel like my parents think they made a mistake adopting me and ‘I have no idea what to do with my life’ stuff. But also the sexy fantasy stuff, all of which Gladio had taken in stride so far while also sharing his own stuff. 

So far there was nothing Prompto regretted sharing...but there was a first time for everything. And that seemed to be now, curled up on Gladio’s couch with some movie they were barely paying attention to going, him laying on Gladio’s chest, their bare legs twined together. It was both heated and something else, something slow and lazy and warm, slow lingering kisses exchanged as he moved his hand over Gladio’s cock and rocked against his boyfriend’s thigh, in no particular hurry to get off just yet. He liked being close, and everything was made soft and hazy. It was the feeling of Gladio’s hand grasping his ass, the warmth of him under Prompto’s body, the smell of soap on Gladio’s skin, and the lingering taste of beer on his boyfriend’s mouth that loosened his lips. 

It started fine, ‘So I have this idea?’’ whispered between presses of lips, met with rough laughter and a murmured ‘A sex idea? Because if you’re humping my leg and it’s not a sex thing I need to work harder.’ And so he said it, let it slip out.

He regretted it instantly. Gladio stiffened under him and the fingers dragging over his skin went still. Prompto cringed away, pushing himself up as Gladio drew back, leaving them staring at each other; Gladio looking dumbfounded and Prompto horrified at what had come out of his mouth. 

“You want me to what?”  

He scrambled back, away from Gladio and to the other side of the couch, eyes widening as the warm bubble around them burst. The sound of the tv came flooding back, the chill of the apartment, the rasp of the fabric against his legs; everything that had dimmed when Gladio had become his focus rudely intruded. The real world was back and with it the reminder that, oh yeah, these were things normal people just didn’t talk about. 

“I. Nothing! Forget I said anything!”

Gladio pressed his lips together then looked at a point past his head. Prompto knew his boyfriend, knew most of the subtle shifts in expression and what they could mean, and so he knew that furrowed brows and narrowed eyes meant he was troubled. And that was fair, wasn’t it? Prompto was sure no one wanted to have a nice, perfectly sweet make out session ruined by ‘So, hey, I have this rape fantasy!’ and fuck, why had he even said that. 

“I’m sorry.” Prompto muttered, eyes flicking away from Gladio’s face towards where he was pretty sure his jeans had ended up. Was it too late to just beat a hasty retreat? “I’m just. I have to work in the morning-”

“Don’t do that thing.”

“What thing?” 

Gladio snorted. “That thing where you think you said something wrong and then run away to hide out for a week, stressing out because you’re sure everyone suddenly hates you. I’m not going to freak out because you’re into something...different.” 

That...that sounded like a thing he sometimes did, yes, but it wasn’t like Gladio was a paragon of emotional openness and stability. There had been moments when he was sure he could physically see Gladio repressing his feelings and burying them somewhere deep inside, never to be spoken of again. 

He wouldn’t he been surprised if this ended up being one of those things. Boyfriend admits to rape fantasy, bury it away, forget it happened. 

“Just give me a few minutes to...that wasn’t what I expected. I thought you were going to say you wanted to top tonight, not ‘how would you feel about  _ raping _ me?’”

“...well. That too.”

“That too.” Gladio mimicked, rolling his eyes. “Prom, this is a little heavier than me telling you I want to tie you up with a vibrator in your ass and leave you that way. Maybe set up a cam so I can watch from somewhere else.” 

Prompto’s eyebrow jumped up and some of the arousal that had crashed and burned tried to flicker back to life. “You never told me that. I would remember that.” That sounded like fun, and less potentially mortifying to talk about. 

Gladio shrugged. “No, but I figured we’re just putting stuff out there now so why not.”

“I...guess?” 

There was a moment of silence between them after that, only the sound of explosions and a giant rampaging monster filling the space. Gladio looked thoughtful but not disgusted or upset and Prompto was willing to chalk that up as a win no matter how it went. Finally his boyfriend focused on him again and sighed. 

“Come back over here. Please.” Gladio wasn’t big on pleases, and his expression had softened into something open and curious, so Prompto couldn’t do anything but crawl back over him and settle between his legs, slotting their bodies together. “I won’t do anything that hurts you. I don’t mind rough play, you know that, but-” 

“I know!” Prompto interrupted, and he did know. Gladio was a lot of things, mostly good things but sometimes not so good, but none of those involved being the sort of person who wanted to hurt others. To the contrary even when he was being rough, gripping hard or scratching or smacking and biting, even when he bound his wrists or had Prompto crawl for him, it was always careful and with an awareness of how Prompto was doing and feeling. 

And even on the occasion that things didn’t go right Gladio was quick to stop, to comfort, and to make things right as best he could. Prompto trusted him completely. Which was the point. He couldn’t do what he wanted with someone he didn’t trust or someone who didn’t know him as well as Gladio did. He was safe, totally safe, with Gladio. 

He tried to explain it but the older man just looked confused. His fingers stroked along Prompto’s spine and he nodded along, showing he was listening, but when Prompto came to a nervous halt, blinked up at his boyfriend, Gladio just shrugged. 

“I don’t get it.” He sounded apologetic. Prompto smiled and shook his head. That was fine, that Gladio had been willing to hear him out was good enough. “So, walk me through it. Tell me what you want so I can understand.” 

He squirmed and stuttered, brain grinding to a stop for a long terrible moment. Then he let out a breath. “You want me to-”

“Lay it out for me.” 

“Um. Okay.” Prompto swallowed then nodded to himself. Okay. He could do this, the gods knew he’d jerked off while imagining more scenarios for this than even he could remember. He just had to...verbalize one of his ‘deep dark’ sex things. For his boyfriend. 

No big deal. 

“Um. Well. It’d be somewhere kind of dark, and sort of public. Probably at night? Like...a parking lot or a bathroom or something. Somewhere that seems safe but isn’t really. And you're there, watching me. You've been watching me and waiting for the right time.”

\---

Prompto shifted the weight of his bag slightly then reached up to push his earbud a little deeper into his ear. The parking garage was quiet and dark; some of the lights were dimmed and most of the stalls filled but no people around that he could see though, considering the late hour, that was to be expected. He’d been so caught up in playing games with Noctis that he hadn’t even realized how much time had been going past until it was far past sundown. 

He’d slipped out just after Ignis had arrived in spite of an invitation to stay the night, not wanting to intrude on what he knew was some of the rare along time his friends would be able to share. 

He barely looked up as he walked along. He knew the path to the elevator by heart after all and tapping out a response to Noct, assuring him that he hadn’t felt like he’d been run off, seemed like what was most important. After all what was there to see except concrete pillars and cars? And his music wasn’t so loud he’d miss a car coming his way. He’d walked the same path hundreds of time before with no more issue than tripping over his own feet. 

He never saw the attack coming. One minute he was passing past a truck, rolling his eyes at Noct’s ‘You’re way more important than sex, I swear!!!’ and the next he was being hauled off of his feet. Something, warm and smooth, clamped over his mouth with an iron grip and an arm was around his chest, pinning his arms to his side, and yanking him back into the shadowed space between two vehicles. He barely had time to realize what was happening before he was slamming into something, hard. He felt the impact all through his body, jolting and rattling through even his teeth. The shock clouded his mind for a moment, made him slow to move as a heavy weight settled against him, crushing him against the side of a dark truck and pinning him in place.

Warm air wafted over his ear. Prompto opened his mouth against what was covering it (a hand? In a glove?). “If you shout I’ll cut your tongue out of your mouth. Understand?” 

Something poked him just below his ribs and even through the fabric of his shirt and vest he could feel a sharp tip. Prompto tensed, breath catching, and nodded slowly. The hand on his mouth slipped away slowly and for a second the silence was heavy and thick, as if they were both poised on the edge and waiting. He thought about screaming but what could only be a blade was there, pressing into him warningly, and part of him screamed that it wasn't worth the risk. The garage might be well and truly empty, there might be no one to hear, he might get himself stabbed for no reason. He also thought about fighting.

He's been training with some of the best in Insomnia, people with a vested interest in making him good enough to be part of Noct’s guard. His hands were free, pressed against the cool surface of the truck, he could- but no. They were tucked back in the near darkness, the dim lights barely touching the spaces close to the walls, and he could only kind of see the reflection of the man pinning him, a dark hooded sweatshirt hiding away a shadowed face, but he could feel him. Tall enough to tower over him, broad enough that his body completely blanketed Prompto. Muscular. Strong, very strong, he could tell. Add in a weapon and Prompto already being in a weaker position, pinned to a car door staring at his reflection like a butterfly pinned under glass.

He needed to stay calm. This was probably just a mugging of something. He didn't have much worth taking and none of it was worth dying or getting hurt over. He’d lose his wallet and laptop, no big deal. It was smarter to let it go. Be smart. He could be smart. Losing his camera would be...it had been a gift, it hadn’t let his side since he’d gotten it. But the person who’d given it to him wouldn’t want him to be hurt trying to hold onto it. They would understand. 

He breathed out and pressed his lips together then nodded minutely, not daring to move more than that. Prompro’s reflection in the mirror was wide eyed, pale, and behind him he saw a slash full of teeth cut across the shadows of the man’s face. 

“Good. You’re smarter than you look.” The body behind him shifted and a hand skimmed down his arm, rough fingertips gliding over his skin. The touch ran back up then down his side, patting him down slowly. Prompto’s heart, already beating fast, was now pounding in his chest, against his ribcage. He was sure the other man had to be able to hear it. “Hands behind your back.” 

Prompto hesitated, confused. Why wasn’t he just taking his stuff and leaving? “Why-”

His shirt and vest were yanked up, exposing his skin to the air. The blade that had been just an impression of sharpness touched him, cool metal edge pressing against him as a silent warning. The hair on his arms stood up and his hands flexed anxiously. Prompto shuddered in spite of the suddenly oppressive heat in the garage. His hands were shaking when he bent them back behind his body, fitting them into what little space there was between him and the man. The hand holding the blade stayed where it was, a silent reminder, but the other moved away somewhere. He saw, in the window, the man glancing down at something.

He jumped when something touched his wrists, sticky and- tape? He started to twist around but a pinprick of pain made him stop, a shocked gasp falling from his lips. The pinprick became a line of fire, there for a few seconds and then gone. He didn’t need to see it to know he’d been cut, a short shallow slash under his ribs and that blood would be beading there, sliding over his skin. He inhaled, felt the air rattling around in his lungs. 

Nothing was said as the roll of tape was quickly wrapped around his wrists, binding them together, and torn away. Prompto’s stomach dropped down to what felt like his knees and his heart followed, each coil of tape, rigid and tight around, the adhesive yanking at the hairs on his arm, feeling like a death sentence. He didn’t understand why this was happening. 

Did the man think he was going to fight, that Prompto couldn’t see he was totally outmatched and that it was in his best interest to not do that? He could have taken his stuff and been out of the parking garage by now, why draw it out? Was it just to keep him from being able to report him as soon as he was gone? To buy time or was it-

“I’ve been watching you.” The man said as he leaned all of his weight against him. Prompto’s eyes widened. Watching him? What...what the fuck? Lips touched the back of his neck, warm and chapped; Prompto's skin crawled. He tried shifting against the crushing weight, craned his neck to avoid the intimate touch. The man's free hand forced its way between his body and the truck, flattened against his belly. “Been thinking about getting you alone.”

“Oh gods,” slipped from his mouth, a new terrible fear seizing him as the realization that this was not a mugging hit him with startling clarity. This was something else, something terrible, something worse. He flexed his arms, pulled against the tape until he felt the pull on his muscles, but the bindings didn't budge at all. He twisted but the man just leaned against him more, left him no where to go as the hand on his stomach stroked over thin wisps of hair, a near tickling sensation.

Wet heat drug over the back of his neck, leaving a rapidly cooling trail of saliva behind. Another lick, this one along the shell of his ear, and Prompto was shaking, a lump of fear growing in his throat and threatening to strangle him. Fingers pushed past the waistband of his jeans, dipped down to rub at the skin there. His stomach leapt then clenched, twisting itself into knots. 

“D-don't touch me!” Prompto’s voice shook and broke, the threat meant to keep him quiet forgotten. “Stop! Just take what you want!”

The man laughed, low and raspy and dark. The blade glided along his skin, tip scraping at him but not quite breaking skin. “I intend to. I've been thinking about fucking that pretty mouth and that tight ass for so long.” 

Hips pressed against him and, with the hard, straight line of the man's body so tight to him he could what could only been the outline of his erection pressing against him. Fingers plucked at his pants, undid the button, and the part of his brain telling him to stay calm, to not get stabbed, rebelled in the face of what was really happening. 

Prompto threw himself back with all the force he could could manage considering his position, hoping to unbalance the man. It didn't, the bulky body barely moved at all. He shoved against him again, pushed his heels against the ground in an attempt to gain more force. He attempted to slam his head back, aiming for the man's face, tried to twist around to bite, shouted: anything to get away. 

His voice echoed around them, cries to be let go, not to be touched, but it was hollow and strange, barely his own. No one called back, there were no footsteps coming his way, no one coming to help him. 

His fight didn't last long. The other man was just too big, too much stronger. The man stepped back, let Prompto stumble and nearly fall when he had nothing to brace against. He didn’t manage to get his footing before a hard punch to the stomach drove the air from his body and made him see stars and a blow to his knees had him buckling. His knees colliding with the unforgiving concert hurt but a booted foot to the back, forcing his upper body to pitch forward was worse. There was nothing to stop him, no way to break his fall as his arms jerked uselessly behind him, and the meaty smack of his head meeting the ground resonated in his ears. 

It didn't hurt much but he was aware of how vulnerable he was instantly. Face down against the concert, arms bound, hips and ass up, pants sliding down his thighs. 

His attacker was on him quickly, dropping down to sit on his calves. “What did I say about shouting? I was trying to be nice, slut, didn't want to hurt you.” 

His pants went down to bunch up just above his knees with one rough yank. Prompto let out a panicked exhale, shaking his head but the words on his tongue withered when he felt the blade return. A flick of the man's wrist and his briefs were cut along the side seams, falling open on one side. Prompto whimpered, an image of his skin being slice as easily as his underwear flashing through his mind. The action was repeated on the other side and the briefs were peeled away.

“Open your mouth.” The command was gruff and hard, barked out as the man leaned over his body, crotch pressing against Prompto’s ass. His jeans were rough against his skin, clothed cock hot even through the barriers, digging into him. “Or. I’ll make you open it and cut off your tongue.” 

Prompto’s eyes slammed shut. “Don't, please don't. I won't tell, please. Don't do this.” 

Fingers gripped his hair and wrenched his head back painfully. His fingers flexed and curled into useless claws, grasping at air, and his legs attempted to kick out. “Open. Your. Mouth.”

Pain crawled over Prompto’s skull and took root in his neck, made his eyes water from it. He opened his mouth. He didn't register the threat of the blade going away until something was being shoved deep into his mouth, so far back he was gagging. It was dry and rough on his tongue as he coughed and pushed at it, soaked up the moisture and left him dust dry. His eyes rolled down, straining to see even as thick fingers poked on what he'd managed to dislodge.

It was his briefs, cut and fraying, now shoved into his mouth. His face heated up, a humiliated flush stealing across his face. Tape followed, smoothed down over his lips with a hard press, and when it was over he could only stare down dully. A gag, he'd been gagged with his own underwear and tape.

The man let go of his hair. Prompto could do nothing but collapse back to the ground with a muffled oomph. His ass was patted almost gently. He tried to recoil from the touch, to wiggle away and flatten himself against the ground but it doesn't help. The man just slid up his body, settled his considerable weight in the back of his thighs, and slid greedy fingers between the cheeks of his ass. Prompto's shout was muffled, sounds thready and weak to his own ears, and the pleas he tries to force out are so much slurred nonsense. Tears burned his eyes. 

Don't, his brain chanted. Don't let this happen don't don't. He clenched, tried to stop his cheeks from being pried apart to expose his entrance. His hole twitched in the heavy night air; the pad of one of the man's fingers dragged over the furled muscle.

The first push was dry and hot and burned. Prompto didn't make a sound, couldn't. He felt it but didn't, a numbing curtain of shock descending over him. Was this really happening? Why? What had he done wrong? How?

The finger dragged out and the man made a noise like he was clearing his throat and then warm fluid landed on Prompto, right above his invaded hole. Another glob followed, wet and thick, and he knew it was spit but he tried to banish the knowledge, didn't want to think about it even as the man used it to get his fingers wet. Two plunged inside of him, dripping wet, and began to fuck into him with no preamble. 

Prompto found his voice in the form of a broken sob he couldn't contain. His feet kicked uselessly at the ground but between the weight on his legs and the hand on the small of his back, pressing him down hard, all he could do was lay there and take it, body rocked against the ground as the fingers opened him up. 

When the fingers pulled out dread settled on him like a physical thing, threatened to crush him. The man moved on top of him and Prompto shuddered, tensing so much that his teeth ground together around the fabric in his mouth. He let himself imagine, as the moment stretched on, that the man was thinking it over. He was going to realize that this was wrong and change his mind. This could still be okay. 

The man leaned over him and his cock slid against the curve of his ass, rubbed along the crack. It felt damp as it moved against him, seeking his hole, something slippery slicking the length. He felt the heat of it, like a branding iron, when the head pressed against him, and was aware of just how big, how thick, it was when the man's hips snapped forward and it was inside of him.

He wailed behind his gag, back bowing and feet scrambling as a few sharp thrusts let the man into him fully. His body screamed in protest, a burning ache coming to life as muscles were forced to yield. 

The man settled over him, found his ear with his mouth, and let out a stomach turning moan as he began to rock against him. Teeth nipped the love before the man licked him again, a parody of touches he would have welcomed from someone else. Prompto's breath hitched and he tasted blood on his tongue. 

Tears ran down his face. 

“Oh come on, sluts shouldn't cry like that.” The man rasped as he pushed into him again and again, cock scraping against Prompto’s insides, forcing him wider and wider to take its girth. Whatever he'd put on his dick provided some relief, made the slide easier than the nearly dry fingers had been, but not much. “This isn't your first cock. I told you, I've been watching.” 

Something hot and shameful settled in Prompto’s chest. Had this man seen him with his boyfriend? Had he watched them together, touching and kissing, fucking, sometimes in places they shouldn't be but got too caught up to care about? Had he seen Prompto eagerly riding his boyfriend, bending over for him, shamelessly begging for more, always ready and willing for another go. Had he heard his boyfriend call him needy and slutty, but always with affection and love, maybe even awe on occasion. 

Never mean or hurtful. Not like this man said it.

“I know,” The man reached between his thighs to palm his cock. Callused fingers rubbed at sensitive flesh, ghosted over the head of his dick before starting to stroke it. Prompto whined behind his gag, body jerking involuntarily. “What a cockslut you are. I know you like it.” 

No, he wanted to say. He wasn't. He didn't. He hated this, it hurt, he felt sick. Each thrust rocked his body, made his stomach churn, and bile was rising up on the back of his throat. He couldn't see anymore, vision blurred by angry burning tears. He hated it. Hated this man. But he can feel he was getting hard in the man's grip and pleasure he didn't want to feel curled in his stomach every time the thick cock inside of him sunk in just right. His hips were gripped, dragged up some to change the angle, and his cock twitched in response. Sparks clawed up his spine.

He was making noises, weak and wet, behind the gag, and he couldn't think clearly enough to know if he was sobbing or moaning. He could barely think at all, thoughts splintering and rushing as his focus narrowed and narrowed. He had to breathe but wasn't, pressure building in his lungs and gut, lower. The world spun as the man fucked him faster, harder, and the filthy sound of skin slapping against skin filled his ears, warred with the thundering rushing of blood pounding in them. 

He groaned, back arching and twisting as the man's rhythm became erratic, punishing. The hand on his cock moved faster, twisted and squeezed, and sparks went off behind eyelids he hadn't realized he'd let fall shut. 

When the man came it was with a wavering moan that and a pulse of warmth deep inside of him. He kept moving through it, pushed his release deeper into Prompto’s aching body with short jerky thrusts until finally, finally, he went still. He didn't pull out though; instead he started jerking Prompto off again. It was brutal, efficient, like he knew just where to touch and how to drag Prompto over that horrible edge, how to break him. He shouted, muffled and broken, as he came over the man’s hand. 

He knew, somewhere buried in his mind, that it wasn't him. It was just a bodily reaction, it didn't mean anything, it wasn't his fault. But closer to the surface he felt filthy. Disgusting. 

The man’s softening cock slipped out of his body with a wet squelch that sent chills up Prompto’s spine. Cum dribbled out after the man’s cock, thick and cooling quickly, to drip down his ass and over his thighs. Prompto didn't try to move or speak, wanted nothing more than to curl in on himself and never move again.

But it was over, at least. 

There was noise behind him then a hand gripped the back of his shirt to haul him up onto wobbly, tingling legs. He stumbled, the pins and needles sensation making it hard to stand, but it turned out he wasn't going far. He was made to turn, saw the door to the truck he'd been pinned against was open, and then he was being taken off his feet like he weighed nothing and tossed inside. He hit the seat chest first with a bounce and his feet dangled out, helplessly tangled up in his jeans. He twisted around, frantic noise of protest building in his throat, to watch the man climb in after him. He tried to kick out, shook his head and shouted but it was no more effective than anything else had been. One good push had him sliding over the smooth bench seat and a flash of the knife had him bending his legs up towards his body when he was told to.  

Though, a part of him whispered, maybe being stabbed would be better. What was he going to do after this? How could he look anyone in the eye?

The door shut after them and the overhead light went out, plunging them into darkness. Yet he could still make out the man's eyes and mouth perfectly, saw humor in them.

“You thought we were done? After all the waiting and planning I've done?” The man reached down to grab something off of the floor. It was dark and long, wider at one end than the other. The man’s other hand pushed between Prompto’s thighs to force them apart. “I’ll be ready again soon and, in the meantime...well.”

Ice settled in Prompto’s stomach.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Part two will be up for day four: Momentos. ...I think that's day four. five? ...one of those days. ...anyway, it involves improper flashlight usage, so there's that to look forward to.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For Promptio Weekend, Day 1: Keeping Warm

“You thought we were done? After all the waiting and planning I've done?” The man reached down to grab something off of the floor. It was dark and long, wider at one end than the other. The man’s other hand pushed between Prompto’s thighs to force them apart. “I’ll be ready again soon and, in the meantime...well.”   
  
Ice settled in Prompto’s stomach.

\---

Prompto whimpered, chest tightening and burning tears running down his face, when he felt whatever was in the man’s hand push against his abused entrance. It was cold and hard, blunt at the end, and round. The thing twisted around as it pushed at him, the rough edge catching against his sensitive, inflamed rim as the come dripping from his body spread over its surface. He tried to crane his neck to look between his spread legs, not knowing what was happening making it all worse somehow but a broad hand across his face and a rough shove stopped him. 

The back of his head hitting the seat and the crushing of his taped up arms was, at least, not as painful as getting knocked around outside had been. The thing pushing into him withdrew and in the dark Prompto could see his attacker holding it up, a dark shadow almost as long as Prompto's forearm. There was a click and then light, harsh and blinding, was slamming into his eyes. He cringed back, turned his head away from the strong beam, and spots of color dances over his eyes. It was there and gone too fast for him to adjust or use the light to his advantage and when it was gone the dark seemed that much more oppressive as it eagerly raced back in to swallow him up. It had an almost physical presence and it was easy to imagine it reaching out and trying to smother him.

“Now you know what it is, so stop squirming.”

It was no real comfort and Prompto wasn't all that sure he was better off for knowing. The reprieve was short and all too soon the pressure against his asshole was back and even more insistent, unrelenting and once again his attempts to clench and keep it out were doing him no good. The man moved the flashlight, rotated it in a slow circle while working it back and forth with strong pushes to fuck it into him little by little. Slowly, slowly, Prompto's body opened up to it until it was well and truly inside of him. 

The chill was the first thing he was aware of; cool slick metal rubbing against his insides. His stomach clenched and his balls drew up as he whimpered again. He'd never had anything so cold, so unyielding, so...lifeless inside of him before. There was no give to it as it pushed deeper and deeper and Prompto's body clung to it, clenched and pushed and strained around it. 

It was thicker than the man’s cock at first, thicker than any of the toys he'd ever used on himself; Prompto suspected the man had put it lense side first because it quickly began to taper and became easier to deal with, save the uncomfortably wide part leading the way. It forced aching muscles to spread wide, battered against them cruelly as it thrust in and out of him. Past the head it narrowed to one consistent width but the texture changed, became rough and raised in places.

The grips on the shaft of the flashlight. 

And it was long. It went further and further. Prompto could feel it inside of him, stretching him, and would have sworn the considerable weight was settling in his stomach. And it was heavy, so heavy. It ached and his stomach cramped in protest. 

It was starting to warm up at least, the worst of the chill fading.  

“I wasn't sure you'd be able to take it but it looks like I was worried for nothing. You're made to be stuffed, aren't you?” The man said when he was done. Fingers rubbed around his stretched out entrance, dipped past his rim to feel around the flashlight. The man moved around between his legs, lift up into his knees for a moment then settled back down. 

He grabbed Prompto's leg, forced it up over his shoulder to spread him wide. Prompto moaned helplessly behind his gag, the movement shifting the flashlight in a way that was painful but not all at once. The fingers returned to prode at him as the man’s other hand lifted something small and dark up, tilted it down and- 

Prompto gasped out a ‘No’ just as the flash of a camera phone went off. The man chuckled, changed the angle of his phone, and took another picture. “I want to remember how pretty your slutty hole looks right now, forever.” Another click and flash; Prompto turned his head to the side, wishing he could cover his face. “Maybe if you’re good I’ll keep it between us. And if not-” 

One last flash of light and then he heard the phone being tossed aside to thump softly onto the seat. The threat hung between them, unfinished by as clear as if his attacker had spoken the words. If Prompto wasn’t good other people would know about this, would see pictures of him covered in his own spunk, oozing someone elses, with a flashlight shoved inside of him while he cried, helpless and too weak and scared to do anything about it.  

“Do you think your boyfriend would stay with you if he knew you got hard and came for someone else?” The man’s hand wrapped around Prompto’s softened cock, slick and so very warm, and stroked a few times, grip so loose it was almost a tease. His thumb slipped over the crown of his cock, rubbed over the slit to gather up a few last sticky beads of come then dragged them down his shaft. “What would he think of this? Should we find out?” 

He could imagine how it would go, the pitying looks, the anger, the way everyone would pull away from him, knowing he’d been tainted. There’d be no going back, no fixing things; he’d lose everything.  

He shook his head, eyes wide as he tried to wordlessly communicate that he didn’t want that. He saw the flash of teeth as the man flashed him a borderline approving smile. His hand moved, pulling and twisting with each upstroke, and the other dropped back between Prompto’s legs. His cock fought to fill and stiffen; it burned and ached low in his gut, his body screaming it was too much too soon for even his usually impressive recovery time and dancing along the edge of pain and pleasure.  

“As long as you’re good…” 

The flashlight was grasped again, it felt like that for as much was in him there was still a lot outside, more than enough for the man to wrap his large hand around. It turned inside of him then began to slide out, wide head dragging against sore muscles and the raised grips of the shaft grinding into him. His breath caught when he felt something, a raised rounded bit that must have been the on switch, press just right. His body jerked up and he couldn’t hold back the tiny groan that bubbled up in his throat. 

He wondered, absurdly, if it was possible for it to turn on while inside of him. He breathed raggedly, ears ringing with the man’s amused chuckle, and made himself relax as much as he could to permit the flashlight to move without resistance. Something about the thought of it turning on was just too much and made panic and nausea melt the ice in his stomach, made him want it to just happen and be over as quickly as possible. 

The man pulled it out until Prompto could feel his hole widening to permit the wider head, then reversed, faster this time and swiftly picking up speed and strength with each thrust.  It was a nearly dry slide, only the man’s release and what little lube he’d used when he’d fucked him the first time easing the way, but it was more uncomfortable than painful. He struggled to stay limp and relaxed, to be ‘good’, but it was difficult. His skin crawled and his stomach churned with heat and disgust and he wanted to move, wanted to fight back. 

The threat was heavy in his mind, kept him still as the flashlight thrust into him, hard and steady, stretched him deeper and further than ever before. The weight became less strange, the shape more tolerable, and the texture almost...something not bad at all. Raised bumps, dragging back and forth, teasing at sensitized nerves. Even the friction became less of a discomfort, the constant rough push and slide in time with the hand on his cock melting into something else, dripping out of him onto a razors thin edge of ‘good’. 

He whimpered around the musty tasting fabric in his mouth, felt trickles of drool escape the corners of his mouth. His hands moved and flexed, nails digging into the supple leather under his body, not quite trying to escape the layers and layers of tape binding him but unable to help himself. His cock throbbed, moving to full hardness and starting to weep into the man’s hand. Prompto’s toes curled in his boots and his hips jerked up. 

Tears started to run down his face and his breath left him in a mix of choked off pants and sobs.  He tried to tell himself once again that it was just his body doing what bodies did, it wasn’t *him*, didn’t mean he liked it, didn’t mean it was okay, but he was moving, arching up, bearing down on the unyielding weight inside, losing it little by little. 

“Are you going to come again?” His attacker asked, breathless. “From being fucked with a flashlight? You like this? What kind of whore are you?” 

His attacker stopped jerking him off to pick up his phone again; a red light flashed steadily from it. The man set it down, propped up against his knee and then he was touching Prompto again, working him swiftly to the edge. Prompto shook his head, legs kicking and shaking, and tried to hold back from what he could feel rushing up on him. He wouldn’t, couldn't, not like this, not that that phone recording him. Please, he tried to say, please don’t make me. 

It was futile. He came with a shout, whole body stiffening and arching up off of the seat, stomach tightening so hard it hurt worse than being punched in the gut. His awareness fuzzed out, went dark around the edges for a few trembling breathes then snapped back in hyper focus in time for him to feel the sting of his entrance being forced open to let the broad head of the flashlight pull out of his body. He felt every divot, every bit of texture, in detail. 

And then it was gone and he was left trembling, stretched wide open, empty and feeling...strange. Distant from himself, the mess rapidly cooling on his stomach, the soreness in his rim. The red light of the phone came closer, swept up to take in his face then down between his held open thighs, zeroed in on his gaping hole. Two slick fingers entered him, spread apart and twisted, prodding at him searchingly. Prompto could only lie there, shaking apart, and let it happen. It was like his orgasm had completely wrung him out and left nothing left inside to keep him going. 

He couldn’t even find it in himself to flinch when the tape was ripped off his mouth. His lips stung and he lost some skin from them but there wasn’t time to reflect on it because he was being dragged up and into the man’s lap, moved around as if he weighed nothing at all. His chin was grasped hard and his head tilted back so he could stare into hard, cold eyes. 

“Do you think I’m done with you?” 

Prompto’s eyes cut to to the side and his mouth stayed closed. His attacker laughed then let his face go, allowing him to duck his head and completely break eye contact, in favor of grabbing him by his hips. A push up and then a drag down and he was being filled again. Compared to the flashlight the man’s cock was blazing hot and easy to take. It warmed him from the inside and Prompto’s body grasped it tight; he was hard but pliable at the same time, seemed to fit Prompto instead of forcing him to yield to it. 

He squirmed on it, teeth biting into his lip. His attacker began to move, hips snapping up with enough force to bounce Prompto on his lap. He fucked up into him brutally, hands so tight around his hips they were sure to leave marks, each hard slam of his body meeting Prompto’s jolting through him. He felt the impact in his whole body, the stinging slap of flesh meeting flesh, the man’s cock stabbing into him and forcing the air out of him in weak huffs. His lungs burned and his vision was foggy from the tears he’d shed, eyelashes clumped and stuck together; he hurt right down to the core of his body and each rolling thrust just made it worse. 

It even hurt to draw air into his raw throat. Even his jaw and teeth ached.

Prompto felt like it was forever, him held in place over the man as his body was used and abused for his attacker’s pleasure, forced to take body rocking thrusts. His head lolled forward, forehead crashing against the man’s shoulder, and the air warmed, became thick with damp and the smell of sex. The windows fogged, the air seemed to thin, and Prompto’s head span. Little licks of pleasure danced up his spine, over his nerves; it wasn’t enough to get him hard again but he felt the stirrings clawing at him, attempting to see him worked up again. 

And then it was over, a hot rush of come filling him as his attacker quaked under him, strong arms folding around him to crush him against a broad chest. Prompto slumped into it, still shaking and though he’d stopped crying he felt like he might again at any moment. His body was heavy, like he’d been carved from lead, and his thoughts fleeting and unfocused. 

He felt...strange. Very strange. Cold. 

“Moogle.” Was murmured into his hair. 

He blinked, sucked in a breath then pushed his face into Gladio’s neck, sobs wracking his body. It was like something had been pulled inside of him, a plug, or like the air had shattered and the whole world shifted with it. Gladio rubbed at his back and arms, forcing warmth back into his body while whispering quiet words of praise about what a good job he’d done, how strong he was, that he was  _ safe _ . 

He managed, after a few minutes, to pushed back and swipe at his eyes, embarrassed. Stupid, the scene was over, why the hell was he still crying? He knew everything was fine, Gladio wouldn’t really hurt him. There was no reason to-

Lips pressed against the top of his head. “Can you move? I want to get you up into the bath, you’re freezing.” 

Prompto nodded slowly. “Okay. I...that sounds good.” 

And it was. Gladio helped him upstairs and first into the shower, standing behind him as steamy water fell over the both of them, familiar hands washing the evidence of what they’d done from his skin  and body then rubbing at where the tape had left marks on his wrists and arms. Prompto was still unsteady after that, quiet and wideyed, removed from himself but slowly he found himself coming down, grounded by hot water and the feel of Gladio sitting behind him in the tub, holding him tight. 

He sighed, head tipping back to look up at his boyfriend. “Thank you.” 

Gladio smiled wryly. “That was what you wanted?” Prompto licked his lips then nodded, eyes falling down to the surface of the water. “Good. I’m glad. Just...maybe we don’t make that a regular thing. I mean-” He hurried to add when Prompto stiffened and started to push away. “I...liked it? But it was intense. Harder than I expected.”     
Prompto settled back and let his fingers skim over the surface of the water. Steam wound around them like translucent ribbons. Gladio nuzzled against his temple, asking a silent question. Prompto let his eyes drifted shut.   

“That sounds good.”


End file.
